domicile
by narqueen
Summary: They are haunted by houses and the lives-that-could-have-been. [InuYasha/Kikyou]


**Disclaimer:** I do not own InuYasha. Lyrics belong to The Pretty Reckless.

 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Pairing:** InuYasha/Kikyou

 **Dedication:** For my darling inukikfanfluff, who deserves the world and more InuKik stuff.

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 **Domicile**

by queen-of-sinking-ships

* * *

...

 ** _In the night ahead, there's a light upon this house on a hill,_ _  
_ _Living, living still, their intention is to kill and they will, they will,_ _  
_ _But the children are doing fine, I think about them all the time,_ _  
_ _Until they drink the wine and they will, they will, they will._** _  
_

\- House on a Hill, The Pretty Reckless

 _..._

She remembers a day in the summer when InuYasha climbed atop a tree and proclaimed _when we're married let's have a house on a hill_ , staring down at her with all the eagerness of a boy in love, wholly unaware of what the future would bring.

(At the time, she'd been just as naïve, so she giggled and asked why.)

 _So we can see the first light of every morning,_ he'd explained, going slightly pink. _I thought you liked that kinda stuff._

Kikyou remembers saying something like _of course I do, that's very sweet, thank you for thinking of me_ and thinking something like _maybe our children will like the sunrise, too._

So she pulls her hand free of her sleeve and thrusts it into the glare of the midday sun, reminding herself of how the heat does nothing to warm her; of how her skin will break yet shed no blood if kept there long enough; of how she is no longer naïve.

Kikyou keeps her hand in the light until she remembers she is dead.

.

.

.

Sometimes she actively seeks out shelter; sometimes it is offered to her by kind strangers or men who eyed her like Onigumo once did, their gazes hungry and hateful and hopeless all at once. Kikyou accepts and declines the invitations as she sees fit, for her clay-and-bone body needs no rest, and she is doomed to an eternity of exhaustion anyhow. There is no need for sleep, no need for company – homes and humans have little to give the dead.

But ever since the demon-slayer began to shadow her footsteps, she has begun to take breaks and search for places to rest. Of all people, Kikyou knows just how fragile the living body is; the slayer, _Kohaku_ , is barely more than a child. He reminds her a little of the _Kaede-back-then_ – young, talented, forever following the older sibling, forever scarred by the selfish wishes of the half-demon Naraku, _that miserable bastard_ , left in broken homes with broken families and broken hearts.

Traitorously, a voice in her mind whispers, _just like InuYasha –_

Perched above a stream, Kikyou spots a gray, run-down hut, very nearly eclipsed by a swirl of dark clouds that roll over the valley and promise rain.

She beckons Kohaku in the direction of the domicile, wading into the stream, feeling colder than ever before.

.

.

.

There is no one home.

Kohaku kicks the door open, though Kikyou thinks it was unnecessary to do so. Weeds line the edges of the front entrance, strangling the life from the soil, and there is no telltale chatter or indications of life that usually seep through the cracks of any residence.

 _No,_ Kikyou decides, stepping inside. _Nothing has lived here for a long time._

Inside, a few moth-eaten blankets have been tossed sporadically on the ground; Kohaku picks the one with the smallest holes (some piece of dirty red fabric) and collapses on the dirty floor, amongst a few pieces of broken china and the dust of a _place-where-people-used-to-live_. Outside, a storm of wind and water has begun, so Kikyou elects to wander within the hut, pushing past faded paper screens and mulling over _lives-that-could-have-been_. She does this for some time; paces in the empty spaces, away from Kohaku, before –

"Kikyou."

Startled, she whirls around, knowing who it would be, hating herself for letting her guard down.

InuYasha is a little blurred between the shadows, but his somber expression is vivid and piercing, digging painfully into the piece of her heart that Kikyou wishes was dead alongside the rest of her body. His shimmering hair is lank and dripping from the rain, droplets falling from the white tips like the tears she could never shed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I caught your scent," he admits quietly ( _Of course,_ Kikyou groaned internally, _why do I even ask?_ ), "And Kagome said she sensed a jewel shard."

At the sound of her reincarnation's name, Kikyou's lip curls. "And you being here doesn't bother her?"

InuYasha says nothing. Now Kikyou remembers _why she doesn't like InuYasha,_ feeling sorry for the girl who so clearly adored him – the girl who was, in reality, _herself,_ only better; of all the painful things she'd suffered, Kikyou knows _that_ difference will always hurt the most.

"I came to see if you were okay. I came through the window."

Of course he did.

"I'm fine. There is no need for you to be here, InuYasha."

Lightning splits the sky, and the house rattles dangerously.

InuYasha seems to take in his surroundings for the first time, and his brow furrows. "The roof is gonna crack, Kikyou. This place is old. It's not safe."

She glares, folding her arms, ignoring the lump in her throat. "I wouldn't have come here if I thought it was unsafe."

He opens his mouth to argue, but stops, staring at something through the window behind her. Curiosity getting the better of her, Kikyou turns just in time to see another bolt of lightning pierce the earth, a little closer than before.

"It's coming closer," he mutters, claws flexing above the handle of his sword.

And that's when Kikyou remembers, again.

"I-I'll get Kohaku," she stutters, moving sharply to fetch the boy, but a hand encloses around her wrist, _frantic_ and _hot_ and _all she loved in this world._

"Kikyou," InuYasha begs, desperately, and Kikyou understands, allowing him to drag her back and press his lips against her own, and the rain is too cold and his fingers are too tight and she loves him, gods, she loves him more than anything, and this is their almost-home, someone is crying because she can taste salt and she knows that must take the children and _run run run_ before their house and their love fell apart, before the light got too close, before it burned them all –

Suddenly she is too far, too far, running up the hill, her boy in tow. Kohaku is shivering because she has failed him, and InuYasha is long gone, back to his new family and new woman, and Kikyou only stops to watch the lightning strike the old house on atop a hill, shattering the structure into a million shards of _things-long-gone_ , wondering if InuYasha had abandoned what was left of his love there, too. It was unsafe, after all, to keep hoping for dead things to stay the way that they had once been.

Kikyou knows that better than anyone.

.

.

.

...

 ** _In this house on a hill,_ _  
_ _The dead are living still, their intention is to kill and they will, they will,_ _  
_ _Keep your children safe inside, out of pocket, out of mind,_ _  
_ _Until they drink the wine and they will, they will, they will._** _  
_

...

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 **a/n:** _House on a Hill_ is such an InuKik song, it kills me. The ship deserves more love, you guys.

Anyway, I hope I did the pairing justice. Don't think you guys care, or if it's obvious enough, but the house is supposed to be symbolic of InuYasha & Kikyou's past relationship. It's old, and is obviously falling apart and 'not safe', but both are drawn to it because, at one point and time, they believed their love would succeed. InuYasha had hoped to see 'the first light' in the home they were supposed to share (a sunrise), but during the storm, the 'first light' turns out to be a lightning bolt, which gets closer and eventually destroys the house. Kohaku goes to sleep with a red blanket; in my head, it was supposed to echo the idea of InuYasha using his fire-rat robe to protect someone he loves – in this case, alluding to the children he and Kikyou would never have.

(God, I put way too much symbolism into fanfiction.)

 _ **Reviews, comments, and critiques are greatly appreciated.**_


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